Take me to a place where loving you is all I have to do. A place where insecurities don’t exist.
Take me to a place where the emotions I feel when I am with you are a daily occurrence, even when you’re not here.
A place where my tears don’t hit the burning tar and evaporate at first contact with the slab. At first contact with her.
Your love for me now in the air, but you can’t see it. You can’t feel it. And more importantly I can’t feel it.
With every post and notification you are pushed further and further away, while I hold on tightly.
Even when I can feel the “I love you”s tearing away at the flesh of my palms leaving open wound rope burns. Your plaster “babe”s weren’t meant to stitch together the gaping holes our silent argument left, caused by my inhibitions, they weren’t strong enough.
It’s funny because in that moment I could see it in your eyes that you loved me. Feel it in the way you held my hand even though you couldn’t bare to look at me.
Why I still listen to my demons I will never know.
But you left me, and they said “we told you”.
And I stood there in the night crying, still smelling the lingering scent of your exhaust fumes.
And for the very first time I wasn’t sure you loved me.
And suddenly dying didn’t seem so sad…